


What Is and What Should Never Be

by sariloire



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family, Family Issues, More characters to be added as the story progresses - Freeform, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-23 02:54:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8311123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sariloire/pseuds/sariloire
Summary: My first memory is of my family’s kitchen. My father standing at the stove with me at his side, helping to prepare a meal for my family. My mother sitting at the table, cradling my baby sister, Solana.My last memory will be of lying on this floor in a rush of blood. Of seeing a blaze of red hair, feeling her forehead pressed to mine, hearing my name on Shepard’s lips.





	1. Prologue: In My Time of Dying

I’m dying.

The thought crosses my mind, and it doesn’t really take me by surprise. I can’t say that I never thought this day would come.

My father always told me that nothing good would come out of me joining the Spectre program. He said they were too hot-headed, too free from any accountability or rules, too… everything he despised. They were the opposite of what a Vakarian should be.

Maybe that’s why I ended up in this place, watching my blood spread across the floor, unable to do anything about it because of the numbness and cold spreading through my body.

I can’t feel my hands. I can barely feel the pressure against my neck as Shepard leans over me, calling my name. She’s telling me to hold on, that help is on the way. But I can see just enough of her eyes to know that she’s giving me empty promises.

No one will make it here fast enough.

I can feel her hair, that blazing red hair, ghost across my face as she moves closer, calling my name. She’s pressing her hands against my wound, trying to stop the blood. It’s covering her fingers, but her eyes never leave mine as she repeats the mantra that someone will come to save me. She echoes those words over and over, slapping a blood-stained hand to one of her ears as she repeats the medic request over our comm system.

I won’t try to deny that I’ll miss her. Spirits know that we shared some fun times together.

I don’t know what’s waiting for me in heaven, or even if I’m still going after the things I’ve done, but I’ll have to check out the bar and hope that Shepard finds her way there eventually. I’ll need someone to help raise some hell if the place is as boring as my teachers made it sound growing up.

I’m jerked back to the present by the feel of pressure against my head. I manage to open my eyes and I see Shepard, her own eyes closed and her mouth moving silently as she presses her head to mine. Or maybe she’s speaking and I just can’t hear it anymore, the sound in the room seems to be gone now.

I want to speak, I want to tell her that it’s been a hell of a ride.

But I can’t seem to get the words out.

There’s something in my throat, something thing and metallic-tasting that’s threatening to choke me. It’s stopping me from speaking, from telling Shepard that it’ll be alright. That it’s not her fault.

My eyes close of their own accord, and I let myself relax. The darkness is nothing to be afraid of, that’s what my mother always told me.

She was wrong.

I’m afraid of this darkness. It’s cold and quiet, and I can’t feel Shepard’s hands anymore.


	2. Born Under a Bad Sign

_{2160 CE – Palaven}_

“Can you hold this, Garrus?” My father’s hands were so much bigger than mine. They reached out to one of my own, and pulled me closer. I was so close to the stove, too close. It was hot and my mother had always told me never to touch it for any reason.

I glanced up at my father, afraid of what might happen if I touched the metal like he wanted me to. He looked back down at me, and a saw a faint smile on his face. “It’s okay, son. This isn’t hot.” I heard the reassurance of his subvocals as he showed me by touching the handle jutting out from the stove with his bare hand. I tentatively reached out a hand and touched it myself, ready to jerk my hands away if any pain came.

But it didn’t. So I wrapped my fingers around the handle and held it like he showed me, as he walked over to the table to retrieve the seasoning jars. I glanced up from the pan and saw him leaning over my baby sister, Solana, who was cradled in my mother’s arms, sleeping. He pressed his head to hers gently before returning to the stove.

“How do you like your eggs, Garrus?” He asked, setting the seasoning jars down and reaching for the basket of eggs my mother had set out before my sister started crying and interrupted her.

“Um…” I fumbled for the word, but all I could think of what they looked like. “…mushy?” I answered, and my mother chuckled from her seat at the table.

“Scrambled, dear.”

“Scrambled.” I echoed quickly, still holding to the pan just like my father had told me to. He nodded and cracked an egg directly into the pan, and it began to sizzle and pop so loudly that I let go, cowering away from the noise and the heat.

But my father’s hand was on my shoulder, and he pulled me back towards the stove. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.” He said sternly, the smile gone from his face. “It’s just noise and heat.” His voice sounded mad, and I wanted to back away, but he reached for my hand again and jerked it towards the pan, curling my fingers around the handle. “Now stand here and watch this while I get you a plate.”

Noise and heat.

That’s all it was. I was four years old, I wasn’t afraid of noise and heat.

I repeated those words to myself as I stood there watching the eggs turn from liquid to a fluffy pile of mush. Eventually my father took the pan from my hands, and I gladly let go of it when he did. He moved the eggs onto a plate and carefully handed it to me. “Be careful not to drop it.” He said, adding a fork to the plate.

I was careful, and I brought it over to the table where my mother pulled out a chair for me to sit next to her. When I settled into the chair, she pulled it close and I felt her head against mine. “That looks really good, sweetheart. You did an amazing job.”

“Want to try some?” I offered her a bite, and she accepted it. The smile on her face widened as she chewed the eggs.

“They taste even better than they look, Garrus!” She said, running a hand along my crest. “I’ll have to get you to make me some next time.”

“Can Solana have some?” I asked, eyeing the tiny form of my sister. Her eyes were barely open, but I wished she would grow faster so I would have someone to play with.

“Not yet.” My mother replied, gently patting me on the head. “But she should be able to soon. And you can cook breakfast for her every morning if you wish.”

My father came to the table then, and slid a plate of food in front of my mother. “Want me to get her?” He asked, motioning to my sister. My mother handed him Solana and began to eat the food he had cooked for her, her arm around my shoulders, telling me a story as we ate.

 

* * *

 

Later that day, I wanted to take Solana outside. My mother and father hadn’t taken her out of the house since she was born, and I thought she would enjoy the sunlight.

I climbed onto my parents’ bed, being as quiet as I could. My mother was asleep, she had slept a lot more than usual since Solana was born. I didn’t want to wake her, my father always got angry when I woke her by mistake. Looking over the pillow between Solana and the edge of the bed, I saw that her eyes were open. When I leaned over her, she looked at me, but didn’t cry.

“Hi, Solana.” I whispered, leaning down and touching my head to hers, soft and gentle like my mother had taught me. “Do you want to go outside?”

I knew she couldn’t answer me, my mother said it would be months before she started making noises besides crying. But she didn’t cry when I asked her, so I moved the pillow and tugged on the blanket she was wrapped in as I scooted myself back off of the bed. Once I was standing on the floor, I pulled her closer to the edge of the bed until she was in my arms.

My mother had taught me how to hold her, how to cradle her head with my arm to protect her neck, how to be gentle with her soft leg spurs. I was careful, and I left the room with her without waking my mother up.

I walked carefully through the house, taking little steps so I wouldn’t scare Solana by walking too fast. She stayed quiet, but kept watching me. Her eyes were the same color as my father’s, but she looked happier than he usually did. I squeezed her closer as I walked towards the door, excited that I was going to get to show her the yard outside where we would be able to play one day when she was old enough to walk and talk and play with me.

“Garrus!” My father’s voice startled me, and I jumped as Solana let out a shrill cry from the noise and movement. I could hear that he was angry again, and before I turned around, he was pulling me around and taking Solana from my arms. “What do you think you were doing?”

I was afraid, and Solana was crying. I could see her hands waving, the blanket I had made sure to keep around her had fallen off of her arms. My father reached out a hand and pulled on my arm so I was facing him. “Answer me, Garrus, what were you doing with your sister?”

“O-outside.” I began to say, but he interrupted me.

“Speak up, I can’t hear you.”

“I was taking her outside.” I managed to say, looking down at my feet as I spoke. “I wanted Solana to see the sun and the yard.”

“Didn’t your mother tell you what could happen to Solana if she went outside? Look at me.” His voice was still angry, but I looked up at him. “Didn’t she tell you?”

“Y-yes.” I whispered, glancing at the blanket I had made sure to bring with me. “But I brought her blanket so the sun wouldn’t hurt her, and-“

“A blanket won’t stop solar radiation, Garrus, she doesn’t even have a carapace yet.” He spoke louder so that I could hear him over Solana’s crying. “You could have-“

“Aerilus, what’s wrong?” My mother interrupted him as she came into the kitchen. She looked from my father, to me, to Solana whose fists were waving still as she cried.

“Garrus was at the door, trying to take Solana outside when I caught him.” He turned to my mother, offering her Solana. “Take her, so I can have a talk with Garrus.”

My mother looked past him, to me, and shook her head. “You take her, if you rock her for a while she should go back to sleep. Let me talk to Garrus.”

My father looked over at me, as well. I saw him shrug and take Solana from the room, her cries still echoing as they left.

After my father left the room, my mother walked over to me and crouched down, running a hand along my fringe. She didn’t look angry, even after what my father had told her. She didn’t even sound angry when she spoke. “Garrus, sweetheart, why were you taking Solana outside?”

“I wanted to show her the sun.” I whispered, clutching my hands together as I spoke. I didn’t want to cry, I wanted to be a grown-up like my father told me to be. Grown-ups didn’t cry. “I had her blanket, I didn’t want to hurt her.”

My mother smiled, pressing her head to mine before she pulled me into a hug. “I know you didn’t want to hurt her, but she can’t go outside until she starts developing her carapace. Otherwise she could get sick, and we’d have to take her to the doctor.”

“I’m sorry.” I hadn’t wanted to hurt Solana, I didn’t want her to have to go to the doctor. I hugged my mother as she patted my back.

“It’s okay, sweetie, just ask me next time before you want to do something with Solana, okay? Once she gets a little older, we’ll go outside together and have a picnic with her, okay?” She stood up and took one of my hands in hers, walking me towards the bedroom where my father was rocking Solana, she had fallen asleep and stopped crying.

When we walked in, my father reached out an arm towards me. I looked up at my mother and she smiled at me, letting go of my hand and nudging me forward. I moved towards him and he pulled me into his lap, sitting on his knees.

“I’m sorry I was rough with you, Garrus.” He said, his arm around my shoulders squeezing me in a hug. “I was afraid for a minute that you’d hurt your sister.” I nodded, watching as my mother laid back down in her bed.

She put a pillow under her neck and saw me watching her, and she reached out a hand, smiling. “How about you take a nap with me and Solana?” She asked. I jumped down from my father’s knee and climbed onto the bed. She pulled over my smaller pillow to tuck under my neck, and a blanket to throw over both me and Solana once my father laid her on the bed between us.

My mother began to sing a song as my father rocked in the rocking chair next to the bed. Her voice made me feel happy and safe, and soon I fell asleep next to my mother and baby sister.


	3. Family Matters

_{2166 CE – Palaven}_

“Is it going to hurt?”

Solana’s voice was soft and quiet, barely above a whisper, as she leaned over and asked me the question that I had known better than to ask my father. But I didn’t know the answer.

Yet.

I would be finding out soon.

My mother heard her ask the question though, and she looked over her shoulder at Solana and smiled. “It’s okay, Solana. Garrus will be just fine, I promise.”

“Are you afraid?” Solana asked, and I didn’t have to look at her to know that her eyes were wide with worry. I could hear it all in the way her voice rose, her subvocals cued the anxiety better than her face ever could have.

“Of course he’s not.” My father spoke up, from his place in the driver’s seat of the shuttle we were taking into town. He wasn’t at home much lately, his job at C-Sec on the Citadel saw to that, but he was always the same every time he came back home to see us. “He’s a Vakarian. You’re not afraid, are you, son?”

“No, dad.” I answered, swallowing. I saw my father glance in the rearview mirror, his eyes narrowed. He heard the fear in my voice, just as I could hear the anxiety in Solana’s.

“This is a big day for you, sweetie.” My mother said, turning to look at me this time. I could hear the reassurance and gentleness in her voice. “It’s not every day that a boy turns ten and gets his ancestral markings.”

The ancestral markings.

I swallowed again, nodding at my mother’s words instead of answering her. I would only have made my father mad if I had spoken, I knew I couldn’t keep my feelings out of my voice.

In the days leading up to my tenth birthday, many of my classmates had told me horror stories about receiving their ancestral markings. Stories of pain, blood, and agony. The stories were whispered, no one wanted our instructors to hear them. They said that if I mentioned my worries about the pain, I would be punished. So I had kept the stories to myself.

But now it was time to experience it, and all the pleading I had done with the Spirits hadn’t helped relieve me of being afraid. My teachers had told me that the Spirits were all around us, inhabiting everything and seeing all.

If they saw me shaking in my seat, I could only hope that they kept it to themselves.

 

* * *

 

When we arrived at the building, an attendant came to greet us as soon as we left the shuttle. He looked at my father and nodded to him. “Vakarian, sir, welcome.” His voice was respectful, and my father nodded to him in return, motioning for us to follow him.

My mother took Solana’s hand in her left and mine in her right. She squeezed my fingers reassuringly, smiling down at me as we walked into the large hallway, but she didn’t speak. The rooms around us were all silent, it was unnerving.

Hearing nothing but the sounds of our footsteps, we eventually came to the end of the hallway and the attendant showed us into an empty room. After we filed in, he spoke to my father again. “They’ll be in shortly.” He turned his attention to me then, and gave me a smile. “Congratulations… Garrus, was it? This is an exciting experience for you.”

He reached out a hand and I shook it, gripping his hand firmly, the way my father had taught me to do. “Thank you, sir.”

“I know you’re probably nervous, but everything’s going to go fine.” He added, letting go of my hand.

“I-I’m not afraid.” I answered, standing straighter as I spoke. I felt my father’s hand on my shoulder and I looked up, he was smiling down at me, too.

“He’ll be fine. Thank you, Ralyn.” He addressed the attendant, and then Ralyn left, closing the door behind him. My father’s hand squeezed my shoulder before letting go, and he moved to take a seat in one of the available chairs. “Come here, Garrus.” He motioned to me, and I obeyed. When I got close, he pulled me onto his knees, like he had when I was younger. “Why are you afraid, son?”

I felt my neck flush at his words, and I lowered my eyes. But when my father spoke again, he didn’t sound angry. His voice was gentle. “I’m not reprimanding you, I’m simply asking a question. Your mother and I both told you the story of when we received our own markings, didn’t we?”

“Yes, but…” I answered, wondering if it was okay to tell him the other stories I had been told. But I knew he would be able to tell if I was lying, so I did. “My classmates told me of receiving their markings, and they said it hurt. A lot.” I swallowed, looking up at my father. “And that there was a lot of blood.”

My mother spoke from her seat near them, where she was holding Solana. “I believe they were teasing you, Garrus. The markings don’t hurt after the first few minutes, and they certainly don’t bleed.”

“It doesn’t ache every day and make your head hurt?” That was one of the facts that they had told me. I didn’t want to live my life with constant pain.

My father chuckled at my question, reaching up to touch his own blue marks. “Here, let me see your hand.” He picked my hand up and pressed one of my talons to the marks. I watched his face, but couldn’t see any sign of pain. “See? Nothing. It doesn’t hurt at all.” He let go of my hand, and touched the cartilage under my eyes and across my nose, where I knew the marks would be going. “It’ll go along here, and over onto your mandibles. Just like mine.”

“Why aren’t mom’s markings like yours?” I asked. I had noticed before that they were different, but had never asked why.

“When we made the plans for our bonding ceremony, I chose to keep my own colony’s markings.” My mother answered, raising a hand to touch the pale white marks on her own face. “The decision is up to each person, some choose to take their spouse’s markings. My parents passed away when I was young, so I chose to bear these markings to carry on their memory instead of taking the Vakarian ancestral markings.”

“Every turian child takes the ancestral markings of the colony line they were born into. You’re a Vakarian, so you’ll receive the Vakarian markings. So will Solana, when she becomes of age.” My father spoke, looking over at my younger sister. “You know what receiving your markings means, right?”

“It’s… the first step to becoming an adult.” I recited. My teachers had spoken of it to my class many times, telling of the old customs of when turians of past times turned ten, received their colony markings, and became soldiers. The age was pushed back after the Unification War, and I wouldn’t be considered a part of the military for five more years. But the custom of receiving ancestral markings still happened on the tenth birthday.

“That’s right.” My mother smiled as she spoke, and I could hear the pride in her voice.

The door opened then, and an older turian walked in. He was carrying several instruments on a tray and his eyes went from me to my father before his face registered a sign of recognition. “Aerilus, is it really that time already? Your boy can’t be ten yet, I swear he was just born a few years back.” His voice sounded warm and friendly, and I felt a little better.

My father slid me off of his knees in order to stand, shaking hands with the other turian. “Tiius, it’s been too long.”

“It sure has.” Tiius answered, smiling warmly at my mother and sister. “Shuvia, good to see you, too. And that’s your youngest, right?” He waved a hand to Solana. “No one can say the Vakarians don’t know how to clean up nicely. Your family’s beautiful.”

“Thank you, Tiius.” My father put his hand on my back, pulling me in front of him. “This is Garrus, of course.”

“Happy birthday, Garrus.” Tiius said, crouching down to speak to me at eye-level. He reached a hand out to me, and I shook it. After he let go, he clapped his hands on my shoulders. “It’s a pleasure to be able to give you your Vakarian ancestral markings. I was good buddies with your dad when we were in military training. He’s a fine turian.”

I nodded, unsure how to respond, but Tiius just smiled and straightened up. “I’m going to have you sit in this chair over here, and I’ll get everything ready.” He motioned to the chair in the center of the room that was unoccupied before turning his back and beginning to unload the tray he had carried in. “I’ve got the official pigment card, Aerilus, but I’d like you to compare it with your own and make sure the colors were mixed properly.” He handed my father a piece of paper, and my father removed a paper from his pocket and studied them both carefully.

“Everything looks in order.” He responded, handing the original paper back to Tiius. “Do you have the schematic of the markings?”

“Indeed I do.” Tiius handed those to him next, before turning to me with a small brush. “I’m going to get you to lay back, Garrus. I’ll outline where the markings are going to go with ink before I do anything permanent.”

“Yes, sir.” I managed to get out, swallowing hard as I laid back in the chair. It had a cushion built into the headrest to support my neck, and it wasn’t uncomfortable, but I was tense and scared. I closed my eyes as Tiius leaned over me with a brush, and jumped when I felt something cold and wet on my face.

A laugh above me caused me to open my eyes. Tiius had a cloth and had touched it to my face. “It’s just water, Garrus. I’m making sure your face is wiped clean before I do anything, or else it could turn out wrong.” I nodded, but kept my eyes open as he scrubbed my face with the cloth, following the path where the markings would be, and then dried it carefully with another cloth.

He put down the dry cloth and then touched the brush to my nose. I didn’t feel anything, so I kept my eyes opened as he traced it under my eyes and on the side of my face, along the side of my crest, and then onto my mandible, then repeated it on the other side. After several minutes of work, he stepped back, looking over to my mother and father, who were watching silently.

“Well?” Tiius asked, smiling at them.

My father approached me, turning my face carefully, examining what had been painted on it. My mother set Solana in the chair and came over as well, patting my shoulder as she looked at the markings. “They look perfect.” She said eventually, looking over at my father. “It just needs the blue pigment now.”

My father looked over the lines again before stepping back and nodding at Tiius. “Good job, go ahead.”

Tiius stepped forward again, holding a metal object that had a small, sharp blade on one end. “Now, Garrus, this part will hurt as I’m doing it. But I need you to hold still so I don’t scrape where I’m not supposed to.”

I looked from him to my father, then to my mother, then lastly to Solana. She looked even more afraid than she had in the shuttle on the way over. I wanted to be brave for her, even though I was so afraid that I had forgotten all of my mother’s reassurances. “I’ll be still.” I finally said, and I gripped the arms of the chair.

The first scrape of the small knife was the worst. I felt it drag along the cartilage of my face, scraping away a thin outer layer as it moved. The layer underneath stung from exposure, but I stayed still, my eyes closed, as Tiius worked.

After what felt like ages had passed, I heard a clink, and opened my eyes. Tiius had put the small knife down, and picked up the cloth again, wetting it in a small cup of liquid. “This is an antibacterial analgesic, Garrus. It’ll stop the stinging and prevent any infection until you heal.” He pressed the cloth to one of my mandibles and I almost cried out at the pain, but it was quickly gone as the analgesic began to work. He wiped down the rest of the scraped areas of my face with the cloth, the pain quickly being replaced by a cool sensation as the cloth was moved.

Tiius dried my face carefully, and reached for a sealed jar he had brought in with him. “Now comes the fun part.” He said, opening the jar and holding it up for me to see inside of it. I saw a shade of blue that was familiar to me. I glanced at my father, and he nodded back at me. It was the same color that I had seen on his face for as long as I could remember.

“Now hold still, this is going to be cold.”

Tiius was right, the pigment was cold. But it felt good on the raw areas of my face, crest, and mandibles that he had scraped. I barely breathed as he applied it, afraid he would mess up if I took too deep a breath. After a long, careful process, he stepped back again and picked up a mirror, handing it to me. “Don’t touch it, we have to cure the pigment so that it’ll set. But check it out.”

I reached out and took the mirror, my hand shaking as I held it up in front of me. When I finally saw the markings in the mirror, I couldn’t stop the smile.

I looked like an adult, like my father. Like a proper Vakarian.

Looking over at my parents, my mother was beaming and my father had a hand on her shoulder, looking both proud and pleased.

“Double-check it for me, Aerilus, and I’ll go get the lamp to cure it.” Tiius said, and left the room.

My father approached my chair and leaned forward, tapping his head to mine, careful to not touch any of the markings on my face. “Good job, son.” His voice sounded strange to my ears, strained and thick. I looked at him as he pulled away, and I thought I saw the shining of tears in his eyes, but I knew I must have been mistaken.

When Tiius came back, he had a small light bar in his hand. “Close your eyes, and leave them closed until I say to open them.” He said, holding the light above my face. “I don’t want to risk hurting your eyes when I turn this on. Close them now.”

I obeyed, closing my eyes for several long minutes until he told me to open them again. When I opened them, Tiius was packing up the many things he had used during the procedure. “You did great, Garrus. He said, holding out a hand to pull me out of the chair. When my feet were back on the floor, he handed two small jars to my parents. “Here’s some touch-up paint for either of you to use, and the sealant. I assume you remember how to seal the markings?”

“Yes.” My mother answered, accepting the jars. “They should cure for a week first, correct?”

“Yeah, a week will allow any problems with the pigment to work themselves out. Then once you seal it, the markings should be good for ten years or so without a touch-up.” He glanced at me before looking back at my father. “Assuming he doesn’t see any combat that causes the need for touch-ups before then.”

“Thank you, Tiius. You did an excellent job.” My father said, shaking the turian’s hand.

“We’ll be sure to request your help again when it’s Solana’s turn.” My mother replied, shaking Tiius’ hand as we left the room. Solana looked between them both, not saying anything. As I walked beside her, out of the room, she stared up at me, at my markings.

Once we got in the car, she leaned over and whispered to me. “Can I touch them?”

“Sure.” I said, and reached over to take her hand. I put it gently against the markings, afraid that my face might hurt when she touched them, but it didn’t.

“The markings will probably be sore in a few hours, when the analgesic wears off, Garrus.” My mother spoke up, smiling at us over her shoulder. “But the ache should be gone by the time you wake up in the morning.”

“I want my markings, too.” Solana spoke up. I could hear the pout in her voice as she stared at my new markings. It would be four more years until she received her own.

“I can paint some for you when we get home.” I offered, thinking of the painting kit Solana had received on her last birthday. “They won’t last as long as mine, but we’ll match each other until you take a bath.” That made Solana happy, and her smile shone the rest of the ride home.

 

* * *

 

Later that night, after my mother had helped to re-paint Solana’s markings after her bath had washed away the messy ones I had painted, I laid in bed trying to go to sleep.

My face was aching, worse than it had during the procedure. I had pulled my blanket up over my head, muffling the sounds of my crying, when I heard footsteps in the hall.

“Garrus, are you okay?”

It was my mother. She walked into my room and turned the lights on dim before making her way to my bed.

“I’m fine.” I answered, my voice muffled through the blanket.

“Uncover your head, sweetheart.” She said, and I felt her tugging gently on the blanket. I let her pull it off my head, wiping the tears from my face before she could see them. She reached out a hand and rubbed it against my mandible, where the marking was. Where the pain was the worst. “Did the analgesics wear off already?”

I nodded, and she rubbed her thumb across the markings. They felt hot and painful, but her hand felt cool against them, and made the pain lessen.

“Scoot over, let me tell you a story to get your mind off of how it hurts.” My mother said, settling herself onto the edge of the bed once I moved over. “Have I ever told you about the time in training camp when your dad misread our commander’s markings and got a week of extra kitchen duties because of it?”

I couldn’t stop a laugh at the thought, even though it made my face hurt worse. My mother launched into the story, keeping her voice low as to not wake Solana or my father. I didn’t hear the end of the story, because I fell asleep to the sound of her voice and the feel of her hand on my head.


	4. Wishful Thinking

_{2169 CE - Palaven}_

“Garrus, come see this!”

It was Solana’s voice that pulled me away from the book I had been reading for several hours. I hadn’t realized how much time had passed until I tried to move and found I was stiff. I closed the book, carefully marking my place. It was a historical account of Beelo Gurji, the first Spectre to ever be appointed. My mother had bought it for me after I made a particularly good grade on an exam a few weeks before. I had already read it through twice.

I walked into the family room to find Solana perched on the couch, watching the vid screen. As soon as she saw me, she began pointing at the screen. “Look, Garrus! It’s dad!”

Looking at the screen, I saw my father talking about a case he had solved involving smugglers on the Citadel. He was speaking with a reporter, and the headline of the report was running along the bottom of the vid screen. _‘C-Sec Investigator Aerilus Vakarian cracks another case’_. I had been following the case with interest, and had hoped my father would let me know when it was resolved, if nothing else than with a simple extranet message, but apparently he had been too busy.

“Maybe this means he’s actually coming home, then.” I said, settling on the couch next to Solana to watch the report.

My father had been gone for over a month, working a case. As usual. After he joined C-Sec, and began to work his way through the ranks, we saw him less and less. My mother kept a smile on her face when she spoke of him, saying that she was proud of him and that he was doing great things. But I knew she missed him, and knowing that he could have taken a job at _least_ somewhere on our own planet made it worse, to me.

“Garrus, you know your father is working hard.” I heard my mother’s voice behind me, she was standing behind the couch. There was a gentle reprimand in her tone, as her hand patted the top of my head. “He’s a great asset to our people, and sometimes sacrifices have to be made in order for us to do our duty. One day you’ll have to choose your path, whether it’s the military, C-Sec, or whatever it may be. That path may take you far away from us, from your future spouse and children. But if you’re doing something worthwhile, they’ll understand.”

I crossed my arms, staring at the vid screen grumpily. It was a conversation we had had many times before, and it had yet to change my feelings. My mother was working hard to take care of all of us, even with Solana and me pitching in to help with everything that we could. It would have helped her to have my father home.

“I miss dad.” Solana said, staring at the screen, looking unhappy. She turned to look at my mom, a note of worry in her voice. “Will he come home for my marking ceremony?”

“Of course he will, dear.” My mother replied, leaning forward to press her head against Solana’s. “Your father wouldn’t miss something that important for the world.”

 

* * *

 

That night I was lying in bed, reading the book about Spectre Gurji. His story was exciting, but the best part was the book’s wealth of information that it gave on Spectres. How they worked, how they were allowed to do the things that were necessary to get their job done, how they didn’t have to answer to anyone but the Council. It sounded like the best way to deal with the criminals that the galaxy had. Much better than the way my father had to deal with them, if the stories he had told me of his cases at C-Sec were any indication.

I heard a knock on my door, and my mother entered the room. She smiled when she noticed the book I was reading. “Reading it again, Garrus? Don’t you have it memorized by now?”

I closed the book, setting it down next to me as I sat up in my bed. “Do you know if there are any books about others Spectres?” I asked, unable to disguise the eagerness in my voice. “Surely there were others that did all of the amazing things that Gurji did.”

“I’m sure there are.” My mother responded, sitting on the foot of my bed. “How about we go look at the stores next time we go to the city? You can add to your collection.” She added, motioning towards the shelves full of books that were against one of the walls in my room.

I nodded eagerly, thinking of all the books on Spectres that there probably were. I wanted to get as many as I could, and read them all.

“I wanted to talk to you about your father, sweetheart.” My mother said suddenly, and the happiness I had felt when thinking about the books quickly left. “Don’t make that kind of face.” She said gently, reaching to pat my hand with her own. “What’s wrong, Garrus? Why are you so angry with him?”

I wanted to deny it, I knew my mother wouldn’t be happy with the anger. But she was right. So instead, I looked down at my hands, fiddling with the bed sheet.

“Does this have to do with him missing your award ceremony last week?” She asked gently.

The week before, I had been given a special award, along with a few dozen of my classmates. We had earned it for extraordinary achievements in our classes. I had been one of the top students in my year, and had a small trophy sitting on my bookshelf to prove it. My father hadn’t come home for the ceremony.

“Sweetheart, you _know_ he was in the middle of that big case they were just talking about on that news program. He couldn’t leave the Citadel until it was wrapped up, or else months of work might have been undone.”

I made a noncommittal noise in my throat and kept fumbling with the sheet. He had called me before the ceremony, told me that I had done a good job and asked how my firearm practice was coming along. And then reprimanded me when I admitted that I hadn’t spent as much time practicing as he had told me to. The call had disconnected after a lecture about the importance of learning how to shoot properly, and his words had ran through my mind throughout the entire award ceremony.

And I hadn’t heard from him since, not even when the case was closed and he could have told me the details that I so wanted to hear.

“Does dad like to read?” I asked, picking up the book about Gurji and turning it over in my hands, before looking up at my mom. “Because it didn’t seem like it, last time I talked to him.”

“Your father just thinks that there are more important things in life.” My mother answered. “Like being prepared for your future career by learning how to use firearms properly, and things like that.”

“So he _doesn’t_ like to read.” I confirmed, looking back down at the book.

“I think you got your love of reading from me.” My mother said, a smile to her words. “I always preferred desk work, work where I didn’t have to use a weapon to solve problems. That’s probably why I didn’t do very well in basic training until they transferred my concentration over to the Intelligence department.”

I didn’t answer right away, and she continued talking. “But your father also prefers to solve problems without fighting, if he can. That’s why he took the job at C-Sec. He can investigate problems, track down clues, interrogate suspects, and it usually doesn’t end with him having to take a life.”

“But he still thinks that practicing with guns is more important than reading.”

“He’s always been partial to guns, yes. That’s just his preferred interest.” She patted my hand again. “How about this: split your time between firearm practice and reading. That way you can still fly through your books, and you can also learn how to handle that rifle he gave you.”

I glanced in the corner of my room, where the rifle was put away on a shelf. It was a nice rifle, my father had given it to me for my thirteenth birthday.

Finally, I relented, sighing. I knew my father would expect me to train with the rifle, even if it cut into the time I would rather be reading. My mother was right, as usual. “Okay. I’ll practice in the morning.”

 

* * *

 

My father come home a few days later, after wrapping up his case on the Citadel. He said he had earned a vacation from his job and wouldn’t have to leave for a few weeks, meaning he would be present for Solana’s marking ceremony.

The second morning he was home, I heard his voice echo down the hallway when I was still lying in bed, reading the new book my mother had bought me about another Spectre. “Garrus, come here. Bring your rifle.”

I marked my place in the book, wishing I could go on reading it as I had just gotten to an interesting point. I took my rifle off its shelf and left my room. Trudging through the family room, into the kitchen, I found my father standing by the door, holding a few bottles in his hands. “Good morning, son. I thought we could test out your aim with some target practice.”

I didn’t want to, I knew I hadn’t been practicing like I needed to. But I just gripped my rifle tighter and nodded. “Okay, dad.”

We walked out into the yard, behind our house, and he set the bottles on a rock far across the yard. After making sure they were steady, he put a hand on my shoulder and walked a distance he was measuring with his feet. When we had walked far enough to satisfy him, he stopped. “All right, pick up your rifle and sight it in. Make sure you can see the bottles from here.”

I picked it up and raised it to my eye, my arms trembling as I held it. The rifle was still too heavy, even after the practice I had been doing with it. I tried to steady it on my shoulder, to make my arms stop shaking. “Okay, I’m ready.”

My father took a step back and I aimed at one of the bottles carefully, and pulled the trigger. I hit the rock under the bottles instead. I tried again, and failed again. After several more shots, I was so frustrated with myself, and with my shaking arms, that I didn’t hear my father talking to me until he spoke loudly in my ear, standing at my side.

“Are you even listening to me, Garrus? Try again.”

I let my rifle fall slightly, leaning the barrel against the ground to rest my arms. “Can we stop for a while?” I asked, looking down at the rifle while hoping he would let me try again later. “My arms hurt.”

“Not until you hit those targets.” He replied immediately, a bite to his words. “Now again.”

I pulled the gun back up and into position, trying to stare down the scope while it moved due to my shaking arms. I took a few more shots and missed all of them. When I heard my father sigh next to me, I set the rifle back down. “Why are we doing this? I’m not going to get any better.”

“Then this is exactly when you try harder.” He said, taking the rifle from me for a moment. He looked down the scope, speaking as he adjusted one of the knobs on it. “This is when you pull yourself together and you do it. Because if you stop now –if you give up on something when it gets hard- you’re never going to make it anywhere in life.”

He handed the rifle back to me after he inserted a new thermal clip, and noticed the dejected look on my face as I took the rifle back into my tired arms. “I’m not doing this to punish you.” He said, his tone stern as he placed a hand on my shoulder. “My job as your father isn’t to make your life easy. It’s to teach you how to be an adult.”

I nodded, still looking down at the rifle I was holding. I hated the feel of it in my hands, I hated how heavy it was, and I hated the fact that I couldn’t shoot the stupid bottles.

“Now again.”

 

* * *

 

The night, after my father had kept me shooting until I managed to hit one of the bottles, I was lying in bed reading my new book when I overheard my mother and father speaking in the family room. My father’s voice sounded irritated, so I walked quietly into the hall and stood where they couldn’t see me, but where I could hear them.

“-and all he wants to do is lay around and read books, Shuvia. You _have_ to make sure he’s getting his target practice in while I’m gone.”

My mother’s voice was gentle, but firm in her response. “He enjoys reading, Aerilus. More than he enjoys using that gun. There’s nothing wrong with him spending his free time with a book instead of a rifle.”

My mother’s response surprised me, but it also made me happy to hear her defend my books to my father. He didn’t seem to like it, though. “If he starts basic training without being able to hit a bulls-eye, you know the disadvantage he’ll be at. You loved books, but you could still shoot.”

“I told him to try and split his time more evenly.” My mother’s voice finally responded after a few moments. “But give him a day or two. He’ll finish that new book I got him, and then he’ll be ready to work with his rifle some more.”

My father made a noise, and I heard the vid screen cut on. It made his words harder to pick up on, but I could still hear him. “Hopefully he won’t get too many ideas in his head about Spectres, with those books you bought. You know how impressionable kids can be.”

“Some of those Spectres saved a lot of people, they’re heroes.” Her words had a slight reprimand to them, and I silently agreed with her. From what I had heard and read so far, Spectres seemed to do a lot of good for the galaxy.

“Not all of them.” My father shot back. “And even the ones that did a few good things, they did some pretty suspicious things to get their jobs done.”

I heard a sigh that came from my mother, and when she spoke next, her words sounded tired. “Speaking of Spectres, I heard that Garrus’ year is going to be observed for the next few months, and again when they start basic training.”

“What does that have to do with the Spectre program?”

“They’re watching the new inductees for possible training candidates.” She replied, and I felt my heart speed up at her words. “Apparently the council wants more turian Spectres, and they think that raising them from a young age with proper training can lead to good results.”

“Garrus isn’t taking part in the training.” My father’s response was short and to the point. I almost opened my mouth to argue, before remembering that their conversation was not meant for me to be a part of.

“It’s still a few years off.” My mother told him, her voice sounding firm again. “He won’t start basic training until he’s fifteen, and that’s when the real observations begin.”

“Spectres go against everything I’ve tried to teach Garrus about getting jobs done right. He’s not going to be a part of it. Any of it.”

I crept back to my room silently, and sat on the edge of my bed. I could still hear faint voices from the living room, but I couldn’t make out their words. I didn’t want to. It was easy to see why my father felt the way he did, but after spending weeks reading about the Spectre program, the thought of a chance to become one was almost more than I could bear.

And the only thing harder to bear was being _denied_ the chance to become one.

Long after the voices stopped talking, and the lights from the family room were turned off, I still sat on the edge of my bed, thinking of what my parents had discussed. Thinking of the possibilities that my father was ready to deny me, because of how he felt about the Spectres. It wasn’t fair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The shooting scene between Garrus and his father contained dialogue borrowed from the comic 'Mass Effect: Homeworlds'. I don't own the comic or that bit of dialogue, which was honestly one of the main things that inspired me to come up with this story.


End file.
